Hearts Torn Can Be Mended
by musicalauthor0510
Summary: It's been three years since he destroyed their happiness. Can he get it back?


**So, I know I haven't written a fanfiction in a looooooooooooong time. And I've been in the midst of a Soul Eater obsession lately. Figured I'd give Soul Eater fanfiction a shot, straying from my usual InuYasha path. :3 So, here's my disclaimer.**

**Unfortunately for me and my little fantasies, I do not own Soul Eater in any way, shape, or form. I only own the idea, one of many running around like little crazies in my head (good times, good times :P). I love this manga/anime and would love to write more, but I want to see the kind of reviews this one gets first. So, please do leave me some reviews. I would love constructive criticism. As long as you're nice. I don't know how to handle mean people. ;) (You see what I did there, Soul Eater fans?) Anywho, read on! And no flames please! (=^._.^=)**

Rain beat against the little hole- in- the- wall cafe window as customers sipped their lattes and cappuccinos and discussed who- knows what. In the corner, away from the chatter and prying eyes of others, a petite, ashen blonde -haired beauty sat with her nose in a book and her head in the clouds. A cooling hot chocolate sat untouched in front of her, her yet to be unwrapped Panini sitting alongside it. Turning a page in her book, the beauty set down the novel and gazed out the window against which her table stood. Gazing out at the stormy sky as the rain continued to pour and the thunder rumbled along, her left hand absentmindedly went to her right hand to play with the silver band on her right index finger. Her emerald eyes dropped back down to her book with a sigh and she began to read again. She only paused once more to take a sip of her hot chocolate and unwrap her Panini. She'd rather be reading than day dreaming.

* * *

Across town, in the bustling airport, a plane had landed thirty minutes ago. And he was still stuck in his seat, fingers rapidly tapping the armrests in frustration. It had been a rather long flight and he didn't want to spend a second more on this plane next to the moron that wouldn't stop complaining. As the rows in front of him finally began to stand and shoulder their carry on bags, he followed suit. The only thing he had with him was his backpack, which had his wallet, keys to the motorcycle that would be waiting for him in the lot, and a thin silver band he'd pulled off his right hand in the bathroom before the flight. Unconsciously, he rubbing his right hand with his left, feeling the absence of the ring. But he couldn't focus on that right now as he made his way off the plane. And besides, there was no way she could still be here.

Right?

* * *

After another thirty minutes of reading, hot chocolate, and the pitter patter of rain against the window, she gave up. She couldn't focus. Not today, with her thoughts still on that damnable ring she could never bring herself to take off and the one who'd given it to her. Standing with a sigh, she tossed her Panini wrapper in the bin underneath her table and slid her book into her messenger bag. Lifting her hood up over her head and shuffling over to the door, she inhaled sharply before braving the rain, splashing down the sidewalk towards the bus station.

Her hot chocolate had still been half full.

* * *

As he made his way through the terminal and to baggage claim, he felt a sense of deja vu a he looked around the airport. So many times during his childhood and years as a teenager he spent in this airport, coming back from a trip and being greeted by -

He stopped that thought right there. He couldn't think of that. If he did, he would lose his confidence and probably turn around and catch the next flight out of here. So he shut down all thoughts of that and continued on his way, spotting his duffle bag as soon as he reached baggage claim. Mostly because of the logo he'd forgotten she'd sewn onto it when he bought it, for times just like this….

* * *

As the bus rattled along, she leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She liked taking the bus every day, for some reason. Maybe it was because…..

No, that's not why she liked it. She didn't know why else she would like it, but there had to be  
another reason. There just had to be. She couldn't allow herself to be dependent on that anymore. Those thoughts that always brought tears to her eyes and had her locking herself in any bathroom available for hours so she could cry and cry and cry.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes and started to count.

* * *

As he sped through the jammed streets of the city, he reveled in the feeling of the wind in his hair and the feel of the bike underneath him. He'd missed this, he'd realized around the tenth mile. He'd missed driving through these streets that he still knew like the back of his hand. And as he slowed his bike in front of the academy, he smiled tenderly. So many memories at this place.

And he stopped his thought process again. Because every single one of those memories starred her in some way.

And he drove on.

* * *

As she walked down the sidewalk, the rain still going strong, arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to keep warm, she hummed a melody softly to herself.

And then she caught herself and stopped.

And damnit, here came the tears. Now the crying would start, and she needed to get inside where there was tea and her books and Blaire there to comfort her. With a sniffle and a grateful thought tossed to the rain because her face was soaked enough that someone might not notice, she quickened her pace, only a few feet away from the front steps to the building.

And then she stopped. More like, she froze in place.

Because he was standing there, in front of her staring at her, bag slung over his shoulder, motorcycle parked on the curb, and shock white hair dripping over scarlet eyes in the rain. Her left hand immediately went to her right, to cover the ring on her finger. But he still saw it. And he noticed, god damnit, the tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Soul," she whispered.

* * *

He didn't know what possessed him to stop in front of their old building, that small crappy apartment they'd shared with an extremely perverted cat. Blackstar used to break down the door at least once a month. Tsubaki would come over and cook with Maka. Kidd would rearrange their furniture while Patti drew giraffes on the walls. Liz would just paint her nails in the corner and scrub the drawings off after Patti had finished and fix the furniture after Kidd left, apologizing for her sister and meister.

And Maka.

Maka would make him breakfast. Maka would wake him up when he was sleeping in too late before school. Maka would make him get off his lazy ass and clean on Sundays. Maka would sit on the sofa and read a book, her head resting in his lap as he watched television. Maka would make cookies for their friends and Maka- Chop him when he stole batter from the bowl. And Maka would smile softly up at him in his t shirt when she woke up on Saturday mornings in his arms in bed. And she was standing in front of him in the rain right now staring at him.

Maka.

Maka.

Maka.

Maka was crying. And trying to cover her ring, which she still wore on her right hand. Maka?  
And when Maka said his name, everything in him crumbled. His resolve, his confidence, everything.

"Maka," he whispered, before walking slowly towards her. She cautiously approached him, too. And when they reached each other, he reached for her and slowly pulled her into his embrace. And she sobbed into his shirt. He let her for a few minutes, before lifting her in his arms and carrying her upstairs. She stared up at him in his arms. When he reached the apartment's front door, scarlet clashed with emerald. "Keys," he said softly. She nodded mutely and pulled them out of her pocket. He took them from her and unlocked the door, kicking it shut behind them. He took her back to what used to be his/their bedroom. But she stopped him. "Uh, the other one," she whispered. He stiffened for a moment, before taking her to her old bedroom. He turned the knob and entered, gently setting her on the bed before flicking on the light. As he shed his coat, he stared around the room. There were ten times as many books as there had been before, but nothing else had changed. At all. Except Blaire's clothes were no longer in her closet.

"Is Blaire still…?" he asked quietly. She nodded slowly, eyes still downcast and red rimmed. "Yeah," she murmured as she shed her own coat and unzipped her boots. He noticed she'd upgraded a little. These were still black and had the buckles, but they were knee high now. And she didn't wear the short little plaid skirt anymore. Now she wore black tights, a short, long-sleeved white dress that reached mid thigh and a black vest. He did notice that she still wore her trenchcoat over her hoodie, which was comforting. At least that was the same. As he studied her, she went about the room putting the things in her bag away. "Still as organized as ever," he murmured. She stiffened slightly, and he briefly wondered what he'd said wrong before she relaxed and continued. "I guess," she muttered turning away from and keeping her back to him. With a sigh, he dropped his duffle bag on the floor and approached her from behind. "Maka," he whispered her name again, and she stopped. He stopped and watched with wide eyes when her shoulders began to shake and she hugged her arms around her torso. She still kept her back to him. "When did you get back?" she asked through her silent sobs. "Hour ago," he replied. She nodded. She still wouldn't look at him. "Maka," he spoke her name again. "Would you please look at me?" And when she turned, his heart broke all over again. Tears fell down her pale cheeks, ashen locks plastered to her cheeks from the rain, wide emerald eyes sparkling with pain, her entire form trembling. "Why did you come back, Soul?" she asked him. "I didn't think you would still be here," he answered. She shook her head with a snort. "Liar," she whispered. Slowly she sat on the edge of her bed. He kneeled down in front of her. "Most likely," he replied. He smirked at her a little when she looked at him with a tiny smile.

"Hi Soul," she whispered.

"Hi Maka. I'm home."

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table and watching her fix dinner was like living in another world. A better  
world where he hadn't skipped town after everything happened and they'd worked things out and had never been apart. As she browned the meat in the pan and heated up the sauce, he drummed his fingers against the table. She stiffened ever so slightly, but continued to cook. He drummed his fingers just a little harder, just a little louder. Her knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. And when he continued, she snapped.

"Makaaaaa- Chop!"

And the feeling of the book that magically appeared out of nowhere splitting his skull in half was so welcome, so familiar, made him so happy.

And something happened. There was a spark. Like a bolt of lightning shot through both of them.

Soul Resonance.

And then they were in the dark room.

* * *

Maka's eyes opened to red and black walls and floors, a scratchy record echoing jazz throughout the room, a little red imp dancing swing in the corner and observing curiously, a large black armchair that she knew quite well, and Soul. The familiar pin striped suit and tie struck a chord in her heart as he stared at her, scarlet eyes wide. Looking down, she realized she was wearing the dress. The dress she'd been wearing that night. The one she'd had custom made. And suddenly she wanted to run. To go to the imp and tell him to open the door and toss her into the madness. She wanted to let the black blood swallow her whole because she deserved to be there. She was insane if she thought, at the sight of him, that she could make it go back to before. Maybe to when they'd first become partners. That she could start over with him. Because there was no way in any universe that she could.

And then the Soul Resonance ended and she came to back in the kitchen. She was numbly aware of the meat burning in the pan. So she turned off the burner and dumped the pan in the sink. Soul blinked warily up at her from the kitchen table and she turned away, heading back to her room. "You can sleep on the couch tonight. I want you gone before I wake up tomorrow," she whispered before she set his bag down in the hall along with his coat and shut the door.

* * *

He knew she'd ended the Soul Resonance. And he knew why. Which is why he was wary and unsurprised when she'd told him to be out before breakfast. He understood. And he wanted Blackstar to kick his ass for it. Which, now that he thought about it, Blackstar would most likely be more than willing to do. As Soul changed in the bathroom and brushed his teeth, running his fingers through his hair and staring at his reflection with self loathing in his eyes, he caught a tall, voluptuous figure in the background glaring at him. Rinsing his toothbrush and putting his clothes back in his backpack, he turned and met her gaze. "Hi Blaire," he said quietly before heading back towards the living room. But he paused at the door to their old room. "Why did she move into her old room?" he asked the seething cat. "Why do you think, asshole?" she hissed before stalking past him and to Maka's bedroom door,  
slamming it shut behind her. Cautiously, he turned the knob on the door and gently pushed it open. He groped for the light switch, but then immediately regretted it.

It was exactly the same. Meaning she hadn't entered that room in three years.

Falling to his knees, he finally let himself cry. Silent tears fell as his eyes scanned the room. The rumpled sheets on the bed where she'd found him. The open empty drawers where he'd yanked out his clothes and stuffed them into his dufflebag. The smashed glass on the floor by the bedside table where the picture lay underneath the split frame. Their partnership anniversary photo. The curtains were still closed, and the gift bag still lay on it's side on the floor where she'd dropped it. "I'm sorry," he whispered through his tears. "I'm so sorry, Maka." "I don't believe you," came the tremulous whisper from behind.

Jumping to his feet, he turned to find Maka standing before him looking like absolute defeat. She wore one of his old t shirts and a pair of shorts that just barely covered her ass. Her hair was up in those damned pigtails and he couldn't help it. He pulled her into his embrace, sobbing into her hair. "I am," he repeated, like a mantra, over and over again. "I'm sorry. I love you, and I'm sorry." And she continued to tell him she didn't believe him. And they did this for what seemed like eternity before she got fed up with it and shoved him away.

"No!" she shouted at him, and all tears stopped. "I didn't believe you then and I don't believe you now! Because you did it! And you broke my heart! You broke me, Soul Eater, and I can't ever be repaired!" Collapsing to the floor in a heap, she breathed out in ragged breaths. "You broke me. I can't even pick up a weapon anymore. I can't even take of this damn ring!" she screamed, clutching her right hand to her chest. Dropping to his knees before her, he placed a hand over hers and pulled out the silver band from his back pocket. "I keep mine with me every damn day to remind me," he murmured. She looked at him with wide eyes. "I remind myself of what I did. How much of a young moron I was. And how much I've always been in love with you." And she began to cry again. "Soul, I've never stopped loving you. But I stopped trusting you a long time ago," she whispered in return before standing and walking away. "You don't have to leave in the morning," she said quietly over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hallway. And he watched her go with that little bit of hope blooming in his heart.

If she still loved him, then he could earn back her trust.

* * *

_Maka twirled in front of the mirror at the boutique, a grin spread across her lips. "It's perfect!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Tsubaki and Liz. The two girls gave each other knowing smiles and returned her embrace. "If he doesn't jump you right then and there, he's gotta be gay," Liz commented with a smirk and a wink. Maka blushed crimson and nodded. "He won't be able to take his eyes off you, Maka. You look lovely," Tsubaki complimented her._  
_Maka giggled and turned back to the mirror. _

_"You think?"_

_She stood in front of the door to their apartment, key in one hand and gift bag in the other. She'd spent weeks planning this night, this anniversary gift. She wanted everything to be perfect for what she had planned. She'd been building up the courage for months and she was finally at that turning point. She was a girl in love and on a mission. Turning the key in the lock, she was surprised when the lock didn't click. "Funny, Soul usually locks the door behind him," Maka commented with a shrug as she pushed the door open. Looking around the living room, she realized Soul had to be in his bedroom, most likely working on his music with his guitar or listening to his new jazz record she'd bought for him after their latest mission as a surprise. It had been a grueling one, and she'd wanted to do something nice for him. "I'm about to top that, though," she murmured to herself with an excited grin as she moved past the living room and through the kitchen towards the hall leading towards his bedroom. Well, more like their bedroom now. She'd spent so many nights falling asleep in his arms while they talked or listened to his music, that she'd taken to just leaving her clothes in his drawers and going to bed with him. Except, they'd never done anything except sleep. But that was going to change tonight, on the anniversary of their partnership and the day they'd confessed to each other. She was going to make the leap and she was going to prove once and for all she wasn't her parents, that she trusted and loved Soul. She turned the knob on his bedroom door, inhaling and exhaling slowly with a wide smile on her lips. Pushing the door gently open and looking down at her shoes, she stepped into the room. "Soul," she began, lifting her head. _

_And then she stopped. Frozen in place. _

_She may not have been her mother, but Soul had finally proven himself to be her father._

_The gift slipped from her grasp and to the ground, falling on its side. Wide emerald eyes clashed with horrified, guilt -ridden scarlet. "Maka," he whispered. He moved to get out of bed, but stopped when the red headed bombshell turned over with a muffled yawn. "Soul, come back to bed. I'm not done with you yet." _

_That broke the silence. _

_"You son of a bitch!" Maka screamed, tears in her eyes. The red head shot up off the pillows and hurriedly gathered her clothes running out the door. Soul stood before Maka in only his boxers, eyes wide. "YOU told me cool guys don't cheat!" she sobbed. "You told me you would wait for me! You lied to me Soul Eater! You're just like him!" "No, Maka, I'm not!" he said, taking a step towards her. "Don't you dare come near me!" she hissed, glaring up at him with pure hatred in her eyes. _

_Then she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, muffling what she said next. His eyes widened further. "What?" he whispered, horror echoing in his gaze at what he'd done. "Tonight was the night, Soul," she repeated, louder now. _

_Then he took in the dress. An exact replica of the one from the black room. That special dress only he had ever seen her in. And he_  
_saw the gift bag on the floor beside her. "Maka," he whispered, taking another step forward. "I said don't come near me!" she screamed, voice cracking as the tears began to fall again. "I want you gone, Soul Eater!" she shouted, figure trembling. "I want you out of this apartment and out of my life! You bastard! You've ruined everything!" _

_And with that, she walked out of the room and slammed the door to what used to be her bedroom shut behind her. _

_He then proceeded to pack his bag and do exactly as she'd asked._

* * *

Maka shot up from her pillows in a cold sweat, emerald eyes wide, tears falling down her cheeks, and breath coming out in choked sobs. The sound of running feet approached her door and it was slammed open, the door leaving a dent in the wall. Soul stood in her doorway, shirtless and in sweatpants, eyes wide and anxious as he stared.

"You screamed," he whispered.

"And you came," she said in return. He nodded. She dropped her gaze to her hands, which were clenching the sheets like they were her lifeline. She forced herself to unfurl her fists. Raising her right hand, she stared at the ring.

"I was so in love that day," she whispered, and he froze, knowing exactly what day she was talking about. "You can come in, Soul," she murmured. And he did, sitting at the foot of her bed and staring at her, waiting for her to continue. She continued to study the ring on her right index finger, occasionally turning it on her finger with her left hand.

"I'd been thinking about it for months and planning it for weeks. Liz had designed the dress based off what I'd told her and Tsubaki had sewn it. We'd kept it at a boutique in the shopping district, so Blaire wouldn't accidentally find it because we both know she can't keep her mouth shut." Maka chuckled softly. He smiled tenderly before she continued.

"I spent the previous week searching for the perfect gift. And I found it at this record store downtown. I saw it in the window, and had the store owner keep it in the store after I paid for it. I put the receipt in the gift bag. I thought it was the best gift I could have given you. Especially because it sort of went with the dress. I was so excited when I got home. And then I opened your bedroom door."

Soul winced, knowing what was coming next.

"When I saw it, I couldn't help but think that I knew it all along. Because all the important men in my life seem to be compelled to do that to me. And after you were gone, I shut the door and never went in that room again. It hurt too damn much. But I could never sell the apartment or take off the ring. That would make it hurt even more, I think. I cry myself to sleep almost every night. And have the same nightmare over and over again. A memory playing on repeat in my head. Every second of every day. It was like my life ended before it had even begun."

She stopped and looked up at him. She blinked at the tears in his eyes.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Prove it," she whispered.

Then he kissed her.

* * *

The morning light streaming in through the parted curtains was what woke him up. Soul blinked a few times before taking in his surroundings.

He was in Maka's bedroom, in her bed. And he wasn't wearing a single scrap of clothing. Looking to his left, he took in the sight of the sleeping blonde curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder, a small smile gracing her lips. She didn't have her pigtails in anymore, he'd pulled them out sometime during the night. She wasn't clothed either, but that was kind of a given after the night they'd had. Full of heat and passion and pain, it was the single greatest and worst night of his life.

The worst because it should have happened three years ago, with her instead of some red head that got him rip roaring drunk and dragged him up to his room for his first time.

But amazing because it was Maka, and him, and they'd been completely together, and they'd even resonated for a while there, and it was kind of fun to see the imp run away screaming as she straddled him on the black arm chair.

A sigh from Maka's lips brought him out of his thoughts and into reality. Emerald eyes slowly opened to greet him with a tender smile. "Good morning, cheater," she commented casually with a yawn. His smile dropped and his eyes darkened. She met his gaze with a smirk. "I will hold that over your head until the day we die," she said with another yawn. He grinned. "So does this mean I get my old room back?" he asked cheekily. She frowned. "Easy there, _Papa_," she said with a quirked brow. He shuddered at the comparison and glared down at the tiny girl. "Let's take this one day at a time," she murmured. He nodded, pressing a kiss into her hair. "As long as I get to stay with you," he whispered. She smiled again. "That I can agree to. And you can sleep in here, when invited. You get forty eight hours if you do the dishes from last night and make me pancakes. You have half an hour," she said with yet another yawn before turning away from him and curling up under the comforter. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with a grin before leaning over to place a feather light kiss on her lips and sliding out of her bed and pulling on his sweatpants. Making his way into the kitchen, he couldn't help but sneak into his old room and open the gift bag on the floor.

She'd bought him a grand piano.

He made sure to put extra chocolate chips in the batter and doubled the whipped cream on her pancakes that morning.


End file.
